“It’s summer now,” he insisted, but Lilian wouldn’t relent. She wrapped her arms around her body and started trembling. Even the hottest day couldn’t stifle her snowy memory. Sammy let out a sigh and placed his satchel on the floor. He sluggishly reached into the satchel and took out the white coat he had once bought her. By now it was two sizes too big, but she insisted on wearing it with pride. She raised her hands like a girl waiting to be wrapped after a shower, and wouldn’t move until Sammy also tied a scarf around her neck. Only then did she take her first step out of the station and followed him toward the light-rail.

Sammy grabbed Lilian’s hand and demanded: “Don’t let go,” even though he wasn’t sure whether she heard him over the clamor of the street. “Where are we?” she asked over and over; he didn’t answer. He turned his gaze toward the steel-gray tracks, his ears anticipating the gravelly sound of the engine. For years he had been following the newspaper reports about the miraculous train that crosses the city streets, and was now eager to see it with his own eyes. Once again he pulled out his camera, but immediately placed it back in the satchel, deciding not to waste film.

Slow and heavy, the train pulled into the station. It was as big and silvery as Sammy had imagined, like the steel beast from Daniel’s prophecy. He took a step forward to stand on the platform ledge. Lilian remained hidden behind him.

“Would you believe it, Lilian? A train in Jerusalem again,” he said.

The doors opened. Sammy pulled Lilian forward. He wanted them to step into the car together, but he was assailed by an incessant stream of people. Sammy and Lilian’s shriveled hands detached from each other, and for long moments the two elderly orphans ambled like a torn page, until they finally reunited and melded (became one). Only on their third attempt did they manage to board, pressing against each other and fighting for their place. A young man with a yarmulke whispered loudly to his wife, “Her coat alone takes up all the space.” Sammy didn’t say a word. He was too busy struggling to keep himself steady. Lilian didn’t notice anything going on around her. The train set off and she stared at the city’s buildings; Sammy thought to himself that she was looking at them as if at an old acquaintance she hadn’t seen for many years—she knew they were familiar, but couldn’t remember from where.

They stepped off the train at the Machane Yehuda Station.

“Are we at the beach yet?” Lilian asked. He didn’t answer. The Jaffa Road he once knew had disappeared along with the train tracks, leaving him lost in time and space.